


The Acquisition of Atiesh

by yulon



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulon/pseuds/yulon
Summary: Khadgar always marveled over Atiesh. He never thought he'd one day have her.





	The Acquisition of Atiesh

 

“I can see you staring, lad.”

Khadgar jerked. Medivh and he had been in the library for no more than an hour, Medivh busying himself with reinforcing the wards around Karazhan while Khadgar catalogued some of the reagents he’d brought up from the kitchens.

It was boring and quite frankly gross work. Half of the stuff looked like it’d been shoved in a closet years ago then promptly forgotten about. Dust, grime, and the smell of fading rot stuck even to the things who had no business smelling like that, like the dried elderoot pouch or the dragon scales. No wonder Cook had seemed so eager to rid herself of them from her stores.

So Khadgar had gotten to his sorting work in the library - but for whatever reason, Medivh had come to his exact location to set up the wards. Strange, considering warding work could be done anywhere in the tower. Strange and suspicious. Khadgar felt on edge the moment the Magus had swept in, Atiesh in hand. Knowing Medivh’s “moods,” the Apprentice was sure he’d come in for a reason. A lesson, a warning, something. 

But nothing happened. Medivh got to his work without flourish. Not once did he look at Khadgar, let alone speak to him. Arcane popped and hissed as the Magus reworked the wards. 

Enough time passed that Khadgar felt sure Medivh wasn’t going to do anything - to him, at least. So Khadgar, while he categorized, took the opportunity to observe.

Not Medivh, though. Atiesh.

It wasn’t often he saw Medivh work with the staff. Usually the Guardian used his magic without her, though Khadgar had only seen Medivh without the relic in hand only a handful of times. Today, though, mage and staff worked as one. Medivh swung and spun and wove Atiesh in graceful, practiced movements. And where he moved her, the staff responded. She hummed and whirled with a power Khadgar felt in his chest. 

She was beautiful.

Khadgar had of course, in his training, seen weapons of power before - but nothing enthralled him as this one did. All mages tended to have some lust of power, and the young boy was no exception. The other ancient artifacts had been tantalizing. Atiesh, though, was like a beacon. Mesmerizing.

So when Medivh called him out, Khadgar realized he’d actually, in the most cliche sense, had stopped his work altogether to stare.

He flushed and scrambled back to his duties.

“Sorry, sir,” he rushed out. “I was trying to compare your ward work to that of Guzbah’s.”

Medivh raised an eyebrow. He lowered Atiesh until its end rested on the floor.

“When you lie,” Medivh drawled, “your left eye twitches.”

“It does?” Khadgar turned back. Did he really -

“No,” Medivh said. “But now I know you were lying.”

Khadgar bit the inside of his cheek to stop his immediate response: a glare. He should have seen that trick.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I… Atiesh. I hadn’t seen her use her like that until today.”

“Ah.” Medivh looked at the staff. He frowned and bunched his brows together. Something flickered in his face.

Then he turned back to Khadgar and ushered him forward with a quick flick of his free hand. “Come here, lad. Let’s see if she likes you.”

“S-sir?”

Medivh smiled. “I said let’s see if she likes you.”

Oh, Light. Khadgar glanced at Atiesh, then back at Medivh. A wave of excitement and nausea  swept over him. Medivh smiling didn’t make him feel any better; he knew how mercurial that smile could be. 

All the same, Khadgar wiped his hands off on his pants and approached. Slowly.

“What, uhm - how do I know if she likes me, Master?”

“Medivh,” the Guardian corrected idly. “Simple.”

He let go of Atiesh. It stood now on its own; the raven’s eyes, ruby and glinting, felt like they were watching him. “Take her.”

Khadgar sucked in his breath. Medivh was going to allow him to hold… almost on its own, his hand outstretched, but just before his fingers brushed the artifact, he paused.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Then you would not be the first.”

Khadgar frowned. Thinking of the trick Medivh had just done, he asked: “Does she have a defense mechanism to her?” For all he knew Atiesh might try to incinerate anyone who wasn’t her wielder.

Medivh’s eyes sharpened. “Tell me of other weapons who might, Young Trust.”

“The Temarii Staff,” Khadgar answered at once. His hand was still inches away from Atiesh. Power tingled at his fingertips, as if he was holding his hand over a brazier. “It polymorphs anyone who tries to take it from its master.”

Medivh stared at him. Khadgar cleared his throat and continued.

“There’s the rumored Scythe of Elune. It makes anyone who tries to take it go mad. And then there’s Ebonchill, the First Guardian’s staff, said to curse anyone who tried to take it from Alodi.” He glanced at Medivh.

The Guardian nodded and looked away. A passed lesson. Khadgar relaxed and looked back at Atiesh.

“A good researcher seeks things on his own,” Medivh mused. The intensity had gone from his face. “And experiences things up front. If you want to know if Atiesh has a similar defense, see for yourself.”

He turned and smiled at him again. Khadgar swallowed thickly. 

He could say no. Conceivably. But no doubt that would anger or disappoint Medivh. Or both. And Medivh would probably make him do it anyway. 

The Guardian had set up another trap for him. 

Maybe -

Khadgar lunged his hand forward. He grabbed Atiesh. 

His whole body stiffened with nerves. The Apprenticed waited. He looked at the raven. 

He waited more. 

The intense feeling of judgement swelled over him, harsh as a storm wind. Sweat beaded on his forehead and neck; he was acutely aware of Medivh’s eyes boring into him from somewhere off to the side.

He waited.

Waited.

Nothing happened.

Khadgar waited for a moment more before he relaxed his grip on the staff. Near to trembling, the Apprentice was so thrown off that he took the dazed moment to study Atiesh. The wood was cool underneath his hand, and he noted the little nocks and scars along the staff: a testament to the relic’s age. 

Slowly - slowly - Khadgar relaxed. He wasn’t incinerated. Or turned into a bug. Or frozen  into an ice cube. His anxiety ebbed into wonder, and he brought Atiesh a little closer to him. She was much lighter than he thought she’d be. 

“Fascinating,” Medivh said. 

Khadgar flinched. He’d almost forgotten the magus was still here. He set the staff back to her original placement but didn’t let go of her.

Medivh approached from the left, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on Atiesh. 

“When we were young, Lothar tried to steal and hide her as a joke. Atiesh turned him into a toad.” He eyed Khadgar. The sharpness was back to his eyes, and Khadgar’s nervousness began to return under his hawk-like gaze. “Though that was a far kinder fate than other would-be thieves.”

Medivh was watching him now, as if he was trying to parse just why, exactly, Atiesh had spared him - as if he could pick apart Khadgar’s worthiness.

And only then, awkwardly standing there, did Khadgar realize just that: Atiesh, Greatstaff of the Guardian, one of the most powerful artifacts in the world, had accepted him. 

Giddiness burst in his chest. He couldn’t help himself: he grinned and looked back at the raven. She liked him!

“I - it’s an honor, sir.”

“Mmm.” Medivh eyed him for a moment more, then stretched out his hand. Atiesh flew from Khadgar’s hand and into Medivh’s. The moment she was gone, a feeling of loss panged in his chest: a void of power he hadn’t even comprehended before. He frowned and touched his chest. 

“What are you standing there for? I belive you have more sorting to do.”

And with that, Medivh swept back to his work - and Khadgar could had sworn the raven was watching him as she was carried away. 

  
  


\----

  
  


Khadgar stared, dull-faced, at the graves he’d dug.

Three: one for each resident of Karazhan. All except for him.

His arms ached from the strain of digging. Arms that had, moments ago, been stronger, with a strength to them that only now did he appreciate now that he did not have it any longer.

The now-old man sighed. He slouched and leaned against the shovel. 

Oh, Khadgar had had bad days before, but he was pretty sure this was on the top of the list.

He laughed at himself and leaned his head against the shovel. His laugh was hoarse. Old. Something about it sounded vaguely hysterical. He went to laugh again, but when he exhaled, it come out as a wheezing start to a sob.

He snapped his mouth and eyes closed, lest he allow himself to break in a way he wasn’t yet ready for. The day’s events had made him dead and dull, now; their weight, their sheer enormity, threatened to swallow him. Digging the graves had been methodical. Mechanical work where he didn’t have to think. 

He rubbed his face. 

Lothar would be back, soon. The Lion of Azeroth had gone to fetch the gryphons in the tower so they could make their way to Stormwind. There was still no sign of Garona.

He’d better meet the warrior at the portcullis. It was time to go.

Khadgar set the shovel on the side of the wall. Dirt clung to his fingers; he didn’t have the energy to wipe it off. 

A bad day indeed.

The mage - no, not mage anymore - took one last glancing look at the last resting place of the Last Guardian before he turned and crunched down the path.

He was so tired.

He got about six feet away before a weight settled on his back.

Khadgar whirled around and snatched at whatever had landed on him. He was tired, but not too tired to allow himself to be attacked -

He stopped as he grabbed the thing.

It was no attacking demon; no summoned attacker.

It was thick and cool. Inanimate.

Khadgar recognized what it was at once.

He widened his eyes. Slowly - warily - Khadgar grabbed the weapon from his back.

Atiesh.

He stared at her. She was as light in his hand as she had been last time - light even for his aged muscles. 

“How did…” He looked at the raven. 

Like before, it seemed to watch him. 

This time, though - it felt expectant.

“You weren’t with him,” he wondered aloud. No - Medivh had been weaponless when they had faced him.

Atiesh did or said nothing, of course. Khadgar frowned. 

Gently, like he was pushing away an animal, he let her go. Atiesh stood on her own in the gravel path.

“No. I can’t take you,” Khadgar said. “You need… someone powerful. Someone who still has their powers.”

That pang of loss he’d felt last time he’d let go of her felt all the more bitter, all the more tangible, now that Medivh had taken away his arcane powers. For that brief moment, holding her, he’d felt whole again.

He shook his head at himself and walked past her. Atiesh’s ruby eyes glinted.

Khadgar got about three feet before Atiesh appeared in front of him. He stopped a moment before he could smack right into her.

He glared.

“I can’t take you,” he said. “I have no right to wield you.”

The fact that the Greatstaff of the Guardian was trying to choose him as her next wielder was not lost on him. But he wished it was. Had he still been… been young, the sheer joy he’d felt when Atiesh had simply decided she’d liked him would be almost destructive, like an exploding star, if she had actually chosen him.

But he wasn’t. Young anymore, that is. And he wasn’t a mage. It’d be inappropriate to take something he couldn’t use. He’d be a thief. Maybe Medivh had been right about that all along.

Atiesh didn’t move.

Khadgar went to walk past her a second time.

Atiesh appeared, again, in front of him, and this time Khadgar did run right into her. He cursed and rubbed his nose.

She may have been light in the hand, but she was still solid, hard wood. He huffed and glowered at the Greatstaff.

“You’re being very stubborn.”

It’d be stupid, foolhardy, even, to leave her behind, where anyone could find her. No doubt her essence was tied to Karazhan, and Light help them if someone claimed her for their own and had evil purposes. He should take her and give her to the Violet Citadel for safekeeping. But the thought of handing her over felt wrong. It twisted him in the gut. 

He frowned. Maybe… maybe he should take her for Medivh’s sake, then. He glanced behind his shoulder, and could still see the fresh graves in the darkness. 

Khadgar glanced back at Atiesh. She waited.

“You’re not going to let me leave without you, are you?”

She didn’t answer or do anything. He rubbed his nose again, well aware he was smearing dirt all over it as he did so. 

He heaved a bone-aching sigh.

“Alright. Alright.”

For Medivh’s sake. One last living memory of the Guardian. He reached out and took her.

The moment he grabbed her, something jolted through him. It felt binding: a magic of a pact. A bond. Khadgar gasped softly. He looked at the raven, and the raven looked back. 

“You know,” Khadgar drawled dryly, “you’re just as dramatic as he was.”

  
  



End file.
